Princess Elizabeth would make her entrance as everyone boo’d the jobber Princess. She covered her ears as she didn’t wanna “hear the commoners’ complaints.” She would be holding a microphone as she got in the ring. Once she was ready, Princess Elizabeth would start speaking.
“All of you commoners shut the hell up! Your princess has something to say. Now I’m here to send out a complaint to everyone in the higher ups at LAW. Your princess hasn’t been in a match for months now. You better give me a good explanation onto why you guys decided to push the greatest wrestler in LAW’s history to the side? (Incoming “You Suck” chants) I do not suck! In fact, I am willing to wrestle anybody in the back. So whoever wants to be defeated by the one and only Princess Elizabeth, get out here right now! This is a royal command!”
Elizabeth then tossed the microphone away as she leaned against the ropes. She then waited for her “victim” to come down to the ring for her to “beat up”.
As Princess Elizabeth leaned against the ropes, exuding her smug confidence, the arena stirred with restless energy. Fans sat on the edge of their seats, brimming with curiosity over who might step up to challenge the self-proclaimed "greatest wrestler in L.A.W.'s history." Suddenly, the lights in the arena cut out, plunging the crowd into darkness, only to be replaced by electrifying riffs.
Theme SongSpoiler
The music hit like thunder, igniting a visceral reaction from the audience. Loud cheers echoed throughout the venue as the stage flooded with pulsing lights and swirling smoke. A new figure began to materialize amidst the haze, each deliberate step building anticipation.
When she fully emerged from the shadows, her presence was undeniable. Her blonde hair caught the lights as she strode forward. Her attire, a fierce blend of black leather and barbaric details, emphasized her physical prowess. Her muscular frame shimmered under the bright lights, sparking audible murmurs of awe from the crowd.
Then the arena’s massive screen lit up, spelling out her identity in bold, metallic letters:
“SABLE.”
The crowd’s deafening cheers gave life to her name, their excitement now a roaring tide. It became immediately clear that Sable was no familiar face. Yet, even as an apparent newcomer, her composure and confident movements revealed a deeper layer of expertise, hinting at battles fought elsewhere that had hardened her.
Sable began her descent down the ramp. Her movements were unhurried but filled with purpose, allowing her to revel in the electric energy of the crowd. With a sly grin tugging at the corners of her lips, she acknowledged fans on either side of the ramp, punctuating her arrival with playful waves and flirtatious winks.
Reaching the ring, she paused momentarily to savor the moment, then climbed onto the apron with the elegance of a predator readying for the hunt. As she slipped through the ropes, the cheers of the crowd crescendoed.
When her gaze met Elizabeth’s, the atmosphere shifted. The grin faded, replaced by an icy focus that pierced through the arrogance of the self-styled Princess. No words were needed; the intensity in Sable’s eyes communicated everything. She wasn’t here to merely entertain -- she was here to dominate. The crowd roared their approval once more, fueling the electricity between the two wrestlers as the tension thickened.
In her debut, Sable had already established one undeniable fact: this was her moment.
Princess Elizabeth rolled her eyes at Sable’s reveal to the LAW Universe. She would shush the crowd that was cheering for her opponent as she would grab the microphone she tossed away to talk with her. She would also order one of the camera crew to give her opponent a microphone too so they can talk. Once Princess Elizabeth was standing toe to toe with her opponent, she would yell at the people in the back to cut her opponent’s music before she began speaking; though have to wait like a minute to get the crowd to stop chanting Elizabeth’s opponent’s name.
“And who in the royal hell are you? Know what, don’t answer that. I don’t give a shit about who you are and what you did in the past. You are now in my royal ring and you will treat me with respect. You will listen to every word I’m telling you and if you don’t, I’ll have my daddy send in the royal guards and take you away for execution. (Pause for the booing from the crowd). Now here is my royal order. Once the bell rings, you will lay flat on your back like the filthy commoner you are and let me pin you for the three count. Do I make myself clear?”
As Sable accepted the microphone from a member of the crew, she turned it over in her hand, inspecting it. She tapped the mic twice to test it, the faint thuds reverberating through the arena, before shifting her focus back to Princess Elizabeth. The cheers from the crowd surged once more, and Sable allowed herself a small, amused smile as she lifted the mic to her lips.
"Apologies, your highness," she began, her voice dripping with sarcasm, leaning into the title as if it were a joke. "I suppose I should’ve curtsied when I got in your ring, huh?" She added with mock sincerity, taking a step closer to the so-called princess.
"But here’s the thing," Sable continued, her tone sharpening as her posture straightened, her smirk fading to a more intense expression. "I didn’t come here to play along with your little fairytale. This isn’t some castle you can prance around and rule over. This is my debut, your reality check, and the L.A.W. Universe's next favorite moment."
The crowd roared in approval, chanting her name again, clearly rallying behind the confident newcomer. Sable gestured to the fans with her free hand, encouraging their energy before focusing back on Elizabeth.
"You said you don’t care who I am," Sable said, her voice low and laced with confidence. "That’s fine. You’ll remember me soon enough when I have you flat on your back, eating those royal words of yours." She raised a hand and pointed directly at Elizabeth, her smirk returning. "Because I promise you this: when that bell rings, I’m not just here to beat you. I’m here to make an example out of you."
The crowd’s cheers exploded, the energy in the arena reaching another level. Sable lowered the mic slowly, tilting her head ever so slightly as if to size Elizabeth up. Then, with an almost dismissive shrug, she added one final jab: "And don’t bother calling for your 'royal guards'... they can’t save you from what’s coming."
With that, Sable stepped back and handed the microphone away, her statement delivered with finality. The L.A.W. crowd buzzed with anticipation, their excitement building as the impending clash between these two loomed closer.
Princess Elizabeth would be raging inside after hearing what Sable told her. She didn’t like being talked down to at all and Sable would soon learn why you shouldn’t make Princess Elizabeth mad.
As Sable turned around to hand back to microphone to the crew, Elizabeth flipped her microphone upside down, making it a blunt object. She then raised it in the air and would scream out a battle cry as she, slowly, ran at Sable to hit her in the back of the head with it. However, when Elizabeth inevitably fails on sucker punching Sable with the mic, she would be easy picking for Sable and the bell ringing to begin the match.
As Elizabeth charged forward with the mic raised high, her intention clear, Sable’s sharp instincts kicked in. She spotted the attack out of the corner of her eye and reacted instantly, ducking under Elizabeth’s wild swing. Her movement being fluid. The missed strike left the self-proclaimed princess stumbling slightly.
The bell rang, signaling the official start of the match, and Sable sprang into action. Pivoting smoothly, she snagged Elizabeth’s overextended arm and pulled her forward with force, catching her off-balance. In one swift movement, Sable executed a flawless leg sweep, sending Elizabeth crashing onto the mat with an unceremonious thud.
Wasting no time, Sable expertly transitioned into an armbar by the ropes, trapping Elizabeth's arm between her legs and applying calculated pressure. The crowd exploded in cheers, rallying behind Sable as she made a commanding statement in her debut.
Her face cold and unyielding, Sable didn’t need words to make her intentions known: this match wasn’t a game, and she wasn’t here to entertain the whims of royalty -- she was here to dominate.
Princess Elizabeth whiffed on the mic hit to the back of Sable’s head. Her punishment, not only dropping the mic on the outside of the ring, but, getting leg swept by Sable and getting placed in an armbar by Sable as well. Princess Elizabeth screamed out in pain as she was kicking the ropes, yelling at the referee for a rope break.
The referee, really not wanting to hear more of the screams from the spoiled princess from Malta, would tell Sable to let go of the armbar since Princess Elizabeth was right about it being a rope break.
When Sable eventually let go, Elizabeth would yell in pain as she held her arm. She then got up and would yell at Elizabeth for “attempting to break her arm”. This was both annoying and entertaining for anyone watching the match as well as Sable.
Sable released the armbar at the referee’s instruction, rising calmly. She stepped back, watching as Princess Elizabeth clutched her arm and shrieked about how Sable had “tried to break her arm.” Sable smirked and offered a casual shrug -- taunting her without a word.
As Elizabeth continued to rant, Sable struck. A sharp kick to the stomach doubled Elizabeth over, silencing her tirade. Wasting no time, Sable grabbed her, hoisted her into the air, and slammed her onto the mat. The crowd erupted as the princess lay sprawled out.
Brushing off the encounter like nothing, Sable began pacing around the ring, arms raised to soak in the cheers. "That’s the royal showcase you wanted, right?" she called, flexing and throwing winks to the fans.
Glancing over her shoulder at the fallen princess, she smirked. "Maybe next time, try staying on your feet." Sable resumed her showboating, owning the ring.
While Princess Elizabeth was too busy yelling at Sable for supposedly “breaking her arm”, she received a swift kick to the gut as she had the wind kicked out of her. Elizabeth was then lifted up onto the shoulders of Sable as she was then paraded around. Though, that would be a mistake for Sable as she was one heavy princess; a squirmy one alongside that.
“Put me down this instant! How dare you parade me around like this! Your humiliation must cease now! Your princess demands of it!”
Elizabeth was then slammed to the ground with a powerbomb, leaving the princess sprawled out for the crowd. It also gave her opponent some time to continue parading her around, now just circling the downed and hurt Princess.
Last edited by ReneeCockyUndercard on Wed Dec 25, 2024 4:39 am, edited 1 time in total.
Seeing that the princess was still reeling from the slam, Sable seized the opportunity to press her advantage, determined to leave a lasting impression on the L.A.W. audience.
"Come on, I'm not done with you yet," she growled, a smirk tugging at her lips as she reached down and roughly grabbed Elizabeth by the hair. Her movements were anything but gentle, showing her opponent -- and everyone watching -- that kindness wasn’t in her arsenal. This was her chance to showcase her ruthlessness, proving she was a competitor not to be underestimated.
Dragging Elizabeth to the center of the ring, Sable didn’t waste a moment. She began a brutal series of stomps, her boots hammering into Elizabeth’s body. Each step seemed calculated as Sable methodically 'went around the world,' targeting various parts of her opponent -- the arms, the legs, the ribs -- her relentless assault designed to inflict as much pain as possible.
Sable only stops when Elizabeth began to writhe away or shield herself from the unrelenting blows. It was as if Sable were toying with her opponent -- or perhaps more accurately, like a predator savoring its prey.
